[youtube]GQAiB9Vlbh0[/youtube] Snows covers miles of burnt buildings. Corpses of slain soldiers and starving serfs are preserved under the ice. The many homeless huddle in public houses, live under the generosity of their neighbors, or freeze to death in Waiting Season cold. Between these sights most pitiful are nothing but the signs of war being covered by a snowfall that obscures all but the vision of hawks. Three annums aft, a great host of men from the Southwestern Isles, those rich tropics owned by the merchant-princes they call Bogans, landed in the Crownlands. Their fleet were far too numerous to be opposed by one lord, and none wished to sacrifice their own fleets in such a risky battle. Though angered, the Overlord Balthazar cast no blame, and issued the call to arms among all the Lords and Ladies of the land to raise their levies and meet the Host. No man truly loves their suzerain, but Balthazar was perhaps the most widely-agreeable Overlord Lundland had seen since Aella. Thus did all vassals of the realm answer his call, to meet the host. Many a glorious and victorious battle ensued, earning the battered kingdom much foreign praise, and proving perhaps that the kingdom were not so hopeless as were thought. During one battle, what was left of the host were running in fright of the Lundish forces. Overlord Balthazar, who commanded in person, were shot in the arm by a fleeing islander’s crossbow. He fell from his horse, and died from the loss of sanguine humour. The Lords saw no reason to fight for a dead Overlord, and believing the war to be won anyhow, marched home. But the Host were still 8,000 strong, and the Crownland’s forces had dwindled, as well as their means. Overlord Rone, the eldest son of the land, were crowned the new Overlord, but it helped none. The boy, who all his life had cared only for the appreciation of art of the aesthetic and formally martial, now bore a kingdom on his shoulders. It is said he was stricken with such nerves, that he could not sleep for days err his coronation. The Crown forces held valiantly, lead by Marshal of the Realm, Uthred the Mighty, but a fatal mistake were made: the brash Marshal lead his force to Country Castle, whereby the Host were headed, though they had lesser numbers and quality of soldier. The battle were a disaster; Sir Ambrose, the third in line to the throne, were found in a shallow ditch, with throat cut to the bone; Sir Theodore, the first in line, fell off the parapets of Country Castle, and appeared to have drowned in its moat. The Crown force lost most of their number, and fled to the town of Falkwreath, whereby the Host followed, after they pillaged and enslaved in the Country. The defense of Falkwreath were an equal disaster. Though a solid fortification were prepared, a traitor had opened the town gates for the enemy, who stormed inside. Marshal Uthred were stabbed through the heart with a spear, and many more men perished. Only Sir Constantine, the second-turned-first in the succession’s line, survived, and he turned tail to great fortress of Bolgaz, as the Crown forces should have done from the beginning. The Host then took all the wealth of Falkwreath and its town, but at great cost in manpower. The Host now had only 2,500 men. Greed beset many of its members, who wished to stay in Lundland, but its commanders insisted they return home with their plunder and slaves. A battle between their forces ensued, and when the dust settled, most of the force returned home, by taking a long route through Mishfarden, while a fragment stayed behind, to live in Lundland as bandits. After this display of incompetence on the high command, as well as Overlord Rone’s complete inability to make any useful orders, many questioned Rone’s ability to rule. Theodore was a charming man with biting wit, and thus many of the vassals’ favorite successor. Upon his death, the succession officially fell to Sir Constantine, a thin man who rarely said a word, and could seem to calmly take a knife to the temple. He does not assert his claim, nor does anyone assert it for him, as otherwise the next in line would be Sir Theodore’s father, and Rone’s uncle, Sir Ingen, who is certainly more-liked on part of his past deeds and generosity. But, of all talk of succession that went on at the court of Bolgaz, one major claimant was ignored. Princess Helen Trisch, the eldest daughter of Overlord Balthazar, a red-headed woman of 28 years, the renowned sword-fighter, tactician, and authoritarian, was infuriated. She had outbursts at court, where she would claim that nowhere in the Writs of the Land did it say that the eldest [i]son[/i] inherit, but that the eldest [i]child[/i] inherit. According to herself, she was the rightful heir to the throne, not Rone, who had only been crowned by tradition. Many laughed at her claims. Never had there been a female Overlord, and no-one wished to start with one now, or at least not one so hot-tempered as Helen. She did not even have any children; she was married at age 18, widowed at 21, and rejected every offer of marriage hence. Many in House Trisch scoffed at the idea of allowing a woman to rule, but became livid at the possibility that their House might become extinct. In light of all this outrage, many who otherwise supported Helen stayed quiet. As Sir Ingen had been appointed Marshal of the Realm, he declared a traitor to the throne of the Overlord, and ordered her arrest. However, when they checked her room, she was nowhere to be found, nor anywhere in Bolgaz was there a trace of her. The only clue was her missing horse; a jet-black stallion, gone from the fortress stables. At the news of her disappearance, Marshal Ingen let the lords of realm be aware of a 10,000 bulli bounty on her head, payable to any who bring the Princess back alive. At hearing of her escape, Rone now seems strangely obsessed with locating his sister, though made no orders to do anything that would lead to her capture, instead constantly asking those around him of her whereabouts. This has only increased everyone’s doubt of Rone’s mental capacity. Thus is the landscape of Bolgaz’s court. Outside, Waiting winds howl. . . --- [i][b]It is now the Waiting Season, AU 107[/b][/i]